The Darkest Mercy
by Tarklovishki
Summary: Being put in the Triwizard Tournament for the second time running, Harry finds out who his true friends are. With someone a lot closer to him than Voldemort out to kill him, Harry must rely on his Veela boyfriend, Draco, to save him.
1. The Malleus Potion

**Title:** The Darkest Mercy  
><strong>Author:<strong> **tarklovishki**  
><strong>Beta:<strong> Slytherincess  
><strong>Glomp For:<strong> **ann7x**  
><strong>Pairing(s):<strong> Harry/Draco  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Being put in the Triwizard Tournament for the second time running, Harry finds out who his true friends are. With someone a lot closer to him than Voldemort out to kill him, Harry must rely on his Veela boyfriend, Draco, to save him.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
><strong>Warning(s):<strong> Character death, time jumps.  
><strong>Epilogue compliant?<strong> No  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 20k  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> Thank you to my beta Slytherincess. You did an awesome job with this. Also, it's in 3 parts; directly from Serpentinelion's Glompfest section.

The Darkest Mercy

Chapter 1

The Great Hall was deathly silent; a pin could have dropped in the entrance hall, and everyone would have heard it as though it had landed right next to them. _Not again_, seemed to be the thought that ran through the heads of the Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. They already had a champion from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, and now they finally had their Hogwarts champion: Harry Potter. For a second time, Harry Potter was going to compete.

The problem was that, just like last time, Harry did not enter his name. He didn't want to compete; playing Champion in the Triwizard Tournament was enough for him the first time around. To go through it a second time … No, he couldn't do it. But when Headmistress McGonagall started to wave him up impatiently, he knew he had no choice. He was seventeen - old enough to compete - his name had been drawn, and that was that.

As Harry rose to his feet, his eyes sought out Draco at the Slytherin table. Draco looked as horrible as Harry felt. He was paler than usual, and his jaw had dropped in horror in a most un-Malfoyish manner. It was then that Harry knew he'd have some serious explaining to do when he caught up with Draco. He'd made a promise that he wouldn't enter his name, and to Draco, this would be a very serious issue, a breach in the trust of their relationship.

"You know where to go, Potter," said McGonagall. She didn't sound at all happy, but she didn't look angry either. In fact, she looked almost … ill. She waved him through the door that led toward the trophy room, a false smile touching her lips, which faded quickly.

Taking the slip of parchment, Harry looked down, and his heart leapt painfully in his chest. The slip of paper that held his name was from his Potions homework. _His name had been ripped from his Potions homework!_It was the homework assignment that was due next Friday, that he hadn't finished yet. Only another Gryffindor could have gotten this, because he hadn't taken the parchment out of Gryffindor Tower since he started working on it. But who would have done it? And, for once - just freaking once - couldn't Harry have a normal year at Hogwarts without someone trying to kill him? The whole "kill Harry Potter" shtick was getting old.

He remembered the words someone had spoken to him a few years ago about the Goblet of Fire. If the signature was made willingly by a person, they could be entered into the tournament. And when Harry had written his name down on his potions parchment, it had been willingly enough. Someone had entered him into the tournament the same way.

The Beauxbatons champion, Amélie Bessette had been born in the United States but came from a French background; she was the first French-American born into her family. The Durmstrang champion, Ivan Dimitrov, was pure Bulgarian. He was large and well-built, but had a very kind face. Both Amélie and Ivan greeted Harry with smiles and waves, which was a startling contrast to how the previous champions had acted at Harry's presence three years ago. Then again, he'd been the fourth champion back then. Harry waved back.

What weighed down his spirits was Draco. How would Draco react to having his mate thrown into danger yet again? Draco was half Veela; therefore, whatever pain Harry went through, Draco would experience, too. If Harry had his way, he wouldn't compete. He shouldn't be competing now. He'd thought that this time around he would curl up beside his boyfriend and put bets on which champion was going to win what task. It looked like his dream of a normal year at Hogwarts had gone down the tubes—again.

McGonagall came to see them, alongside Madame Maxime and the new Headmaster for Durmstrang, Volkanov. He was a rather refreshing change from Karkaroff, who always used to look as though he'd simply rolled in dung and hadn't bothered to take a shower. Volkanov looked to be fresh out of his twenties, and had a face that looked as though it were used to smiling, it was so bright.

After giving them a brief expectation of what was to come, and assuring them - Harry in particular—that almost no two tournaments were exactly the same. She let them go after that. And Harry, who had no idea whether he should feel happy or sick to his stomach that he was going to have to face something entirely different from the last time, went to find Draco. He need not have searched far.

Once he got out into the entrance hall, a hand shot out from behind one of the old statues posted near the doors and grabbed him by the sleeve of his robes and pulled him off to the side. Draco pressed Harry to the wall, and then stood back, watching Harry calmly, with only a hint of disappointment. Harry's heart plummeted with sadness.

"You promised," Draco whispered, shaking his head at Harry. His eyes were lightly rimmed with red, as though he'd shed a couple of tears. "How could you go back on your promise, Harry? I trusted you when you said you'd stay out of trouble this year. Now you go and pull this?" He kicked the ground lightly with the toe of his shoe, and looked everywhere else but at Harry. A choked gasp escaped him, and he quickly wiped his glistening eyes, before stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I can't believe you."

"Hey," said Harry, his own eyes smarting with tears. He pushed off the wall and cupped Draco's cheeks in his hands, wiping away the lingering tears in Draco's eyes with the pads of his thumbs. Draco closed his eyes at the touch. "Draco, I never entered the Tournament, I swear to you. Someone put my name in the Goblet of Fire again." Dropping his hands from Draco's face, he fumbled around in his pocket, extracting the parchment and handing it over to Draco. "Look. This was ripped from my Potions homework. Only a Gryffindor could have done it; ever since I got it, I left it in the Gryffindor Tower."

Draco frowned, looking down at the parchment, and then looked up at Harry in confusion. "But that means ..."

"Someone in Gryffindor has entered me in the tournament," said Harry grimly, nodding his head. "I don't understand why someone from Gryffindor would do this. I mean, what's the motive? If they wanted to surprise me with a normal year at Hogwarts, they were way off the mark, but … I can't believe that someone would put my name into the Goblet again."

"It couldn't have been a first year," said Draco, lost in thought. Harry's shoulders sagged with relief; at least he wouldn't have to worry about Draco not believing him now. Not when he was currently figuring out who else could have done this. "The enchantments around the Goblet have been restricted to fourth years and up. No one younger could have got through. So everyone from your room mates to the Gryffindors you only know by face are suspects."

Then, he cleared his throat, scrunched up the parchment into a tiny ball in his fist, and looked up to meet Harry's gaze fully.

"Now," he said, his tone full of authority and power. It was one of the things Harry accepted and had learned to love about him. Harry liked the way Draco bandied his power about. "I have several theories on how to go about this. To keep you alive, of course. The first thing you have to do, Harry … is come out to your friends about being gay, and about our relationship."

Out of all the things Harry had been expecting Draco to say, this was not one of them.

"What?" He was completely floored. "What does coming out to my friends have to do with anything? Telling them I'm gay and in a relationship with you isn't going to solve anything. They're either going to ask if I've been cursed, or kill me."

"Think about it, Harry!" Draco said, closing the distance between them and taking Harry's warm hands into his own. His eyes were shining brightly at having come up with a plan. "One of your friends could be behind this. They're going to get angry. They obviously wanted to enter you into this tournament to get you hurt. Your friends know that I'm smart - I'm the second smartest person in the school! They'll know I'll try to come up with something to save you! With any luck they'll become careless in how they go about getting rid of you, and then we'll know who the culprit is. We can take them to McGonagall, where they can be questioned with Veritaserum. It's logical, Harry!"

Draco looked so excited that Harry didn't have the heart to turn up his nose up at the plan, even if he wanted to. Draco was right. This was a completely logical plan that Harry himself wouldn't have been able to formulate. He probably would have muscled his way through the tournament with brawn and sheer dumb luck, and used whatever wits he had about him—wits that didn't even come close to the scary amount of knowledge that resided in Draco and Hermione's brains.

"Can we rule out one person?" Harry asked nervously, and Draco, peering curiously at Harry, nodded. "Hermione."

"Why her?" Draco asked. He didn't sound angry, just curious.

"Because she's been by my side since day one," said Harry with a shrug. "She's never turned her back on me, and I haven't turned my back on her. We've been close friends for years, and not once has she ever showed any signs of wanting me dead. Not even after the war. Besides, if Hermione did want me dead, she'd think of a better plan than this. Not to mention she'd know how not to leave evidence pointing to her."

"Okay." He seemed to grudgingly admit that Harry was right, and he crossed Hermione off the list of possible subjects he'd drawn in his mind. Then, he grinned. While Harry was glad to see it, he wondered why it made him feel uneasy all of a sudden, so he shot Draco a questioning glance. Draco continued, "I noticed that you haven't jumped to the Weasel's defence, Harry. You haven't told me that it can't have been him—or _her_," he added, apparently reminded that Ginny Weasley still attended Hogwarts.

"Well, as much as I want to say that they didn't do it, I can't," said Harry uneasily. While he didn't want to write off two of his closest friends as the ones who were possibly out to murder him, he wanted to be honest about his feelings to Draco. Besides, as much as it pained him to admit it, this was something he could see them doing. "But then I'd have to say that about the rest of my friends. They all knew how much I hated participating in the Tournament the first time around, it wouldn't take a genius to know how much I'd hate the second."

Ron and Ginny's names were suddenly underlined. This year, Draco would watch them carefully and do whatever he needed to do to keep his boyfriend alive.

Hearing the sounds of approaching feet from inside the Great Hall, Harry and Draco looked at each other, promising that they would finish the conversation later. With a tight hug and a quick kiss on the lips, they hurried off to their dormitories, just getting out of the entrance hall, just as the doors to the Great Hall opened and McGonagall stepped through.

. . . .

Harry decided that he would waste no time in telling Ron, Hermione and Ginny about his relationship with Draco. Truth be told they admitted they had suspected he was dating someone since around two months after the war had ended. Harry met Draco in the back of a coffee shop in Muggle London, and the two had started talking. A week after, Draco had found out that Harry was his mate, and their visits had become much more frequent. Around a month before they were set to return to Hogwarts, and three months after they first got to talking, Harry and Draco's relationship became sexual. And Harry'd kept it from his friends.

When he entered his dormitory, he wasn't surprised to see Ron, Hermione and Ginny waiting for him, the three of them sitting on Ron's bed. They must have told Seamus, Dean and Neville that they wanted privacy with Harry, because the room was otherwise empty.

"So," said Ron in a rather constricted tone. He looked as though he'd sucked on a lemon and was trying desperately to enjoy it. "Triwizard Champion again, huh?"

_Oh, not this again,_Harry thought angrily. If Ron was going to get jealous that Harry had been chosen again, then Harry would bloody well storm out of Gryffindor Tower and spend the night in the Slytherin common room with Draco. Pansy, Blaise and Goyle had been kind to Harry ever since Draco had decided to get them all together. They'd been shocked at first, but now they were all good friends who got the chance to take the mickey out of Draco once in a while.

"Yeah," said Harry, chuckling dryly. "It seems trouble has fallen in love with me." _Trouble indeed,_he thought, suddenly picturing Draco in his head, and smiled fondly. "Anyway, I didn't put my name in this time. Someone ripped my name off my Potions homework and stuck it in the Goblet."

He watched them carefully for any signs of nervousness, but they all looked genuinely shocked. Hermione got off the bed and ran over to Harry and threw her arms around him, promising that she would help him get through it again this time around, and Ron's lemon look slid right off his face. Ginny looked mournfully down at the ground.

"There's something else you should know, too," said Harry, his hands sliding down his thighs to rest on his knees as he sat down on the bed. Hermione opted to sit beside him his time, clutching his arm worriedly. "You remember how you all asked me if I'm seeing someone?" They all nodded. "Well, I am. For the last three and a half months, actually."

Ginny actually looked hurt at the revelation that Harry had moved on, even if it had been her that pushed Harry into dating again. She had been very specific that she couldn't be his girlfriend after the war. She didn't say it, but then again she didn't need to, that Harry carried too much baggage from the war and she couldn't handle it. With the death of Fred, she thought she was carrying enough on her plate without adding Harry's burdens to it.

Quite frankly, Harry was grateful to see the back of her; if she couldn't love him entirely, flaws and all, then she didn't get the honour of loving him at all. Oh, she could claim that she did, but he'd never felt the connection with her that he had with Draco, and he was grateful for that.

"So, who is it, mate?" Ron asked, sitting on the edge of the bed with excitement. A large, goofy grin spread across his face. "Who is the lucky girl?"

Harry cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable. "That's the thing I want to talk to you guys about, as well." He was aware of Hermione's sharp eyes on him, and fervently wished she would stop scrutinising him. "He isn't a girl."

Ron had always had comically shocked expressions at hand whenever "ground-breaking" news was presented to him, and he didn't disappoint now.

"Blimey, Harry—you're gay?" he gasped. He made it sound very tragic indeed, as though he couldn't go on having a gay man for a best friend.

"Oh, honestly Ron!" Hermione snapped, shaking her head at Ron, who stared at Harry like a gaping fish. Her eyes narrowed in disgust. It didn't slip past her the fact that Ginny looked at Harry with round eyes, and a horrified expression. "You two, I'm surprised you haven't figured it out sooner! What with Harry's low interest in girls."

Harry rounded on her, surprised. "You knew I was … well, that I was gay?"

She looked at him, and nodded her head sharply. "I had my suspicions ever since you told me your first kiss from Cho was wet instead of wonderful. I practically had to explain to you how she was feeling at the time. If you were as involved with her as I'd hoped you might be, you'd have known how she was feeling."

"Well, you're not going to like it. But you have to promise me that you won't hate me or attack him." If Ron or Ginny decided to harm Draco … Well, Draco could protect himself from threats well enough. It was the threat that would Draco be in danger. Harry wouldn't be able to bear the sight of his boyfriend being attacked by his friends, or vice versa; he loved them all, and hated to see them fight. "Otherwise … Otherwise, I'd have to choose him over you guys."

If lightning struck them down at that very moment, he doubted his friends would have been any more surprised than they already were. Harry knew they could hardly believe that he could turn his back on his friends of eight years for some guy.

"He's a Veela, and I'm his mate," Harry clarified. "It'd hurt us both if I turn away from him. In fact, it would kill us. Besides, I love him too much."

Clearly having had enough of skirting around the issue of who this guy was, Ron burst out, "Who the bloody hell is he, mate?"

"Draco Malfoy!" Harry yelled, desperate to get the words out before he lost his nerve.

Once they were out in the open, leaving a prolonged silence in their wake, he waited for the inevitable explosion. Ron would chuck a fit, Ginny would probably scream that Harry had chosen Draco, and Hermione would probably see the logic in the relationship and help Harry pacify the situation so Gryffindor Tower wouldn't get burnt down by the fury of the two Weasleys. Ron and Ginny's reactions were getting mighty predictable nowadays.

"What?" Ginny screamed. She leapt from the bed, her hands curled into shaking fists, the skin white around the knuckles. There was something to be said about Ron managing to keep his cool. Of course he looked thunderstruck, but he wasn't offering to pummel Harry's skull in to make sure that there was a perfectly functioning brain inside. "You're dating _Malfoy_, of all people? Why, Harry?"

"Ginny, I just told you that I'm gay, and that I'm Draco's mate!" Harry said, rolling his eyes. Maybe spending the night with the Slytherins wasn't such a bad idea after all. From the look on Ginny's face, he wouldn't put it past her to kill him in his sleep. "Besides, you don't know him like I do."

"So you don't see him as a murderous little coward?" Ginny asked coolly, her tone dripping with malice.

Something snapped inside Harry, and he launched himself to his feet as well. He didn't remember pulling his wand out, but there it was, sitting comfortably in his hand and pointing directly at Ginny's chest. Ginny blinked in surprise, but her stubborn pride stopped her from backing down on this one.

"Oh, come off it, Harry!" she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. If anyone could talk sense into Harry and get him to leave Draco, she could. "It isn't like you haven't called him anything less over the years! Just because you're in love with the great prat doesn't mean anything, you know. It doesn't change who he is."

"And who is he, Ginny?" Harry genuinely wanted to hear this one; he had no doubt it would give him a laugh as he hexed her face off. Yes, he'd called Draco names, but that was before he'd gotten to know that wonderful man hidden underneath all that arrogance and bitterness. If one took the time to get to know Draco, and made the effort to strip away all the bad feelings, and actually hold him when he broke down, then they'd find beauty. "Tell me exactly who you think he is."

Even when she sensed imminent danger, Ginny didn't know when to quit. "A vicious, cowardly little murderer, that's what!"

In an instant, Harry forgot all about his wand and charged at her. Ron leapt to his feet in an instant, pushing Harry away from his little sister. Ginny stared at Harry in shock for a moment, then pursed her lips and shook her head; apparently Harry was too far gone for simple words to bring him back. Ron and Harry scuffled in the middle of the dormitory, ignoring Hermione's shrieks for them to stop. She dared not get in between them; they could cause damage when they wanted to.

But even in her distressed state, she noticed how Ginny couldn't give a damn about what happened. Ginny hadn't even pretended to be happy when Harry had announced that he was actually seeing someone. In fact, Ginny looked quite angry. Not that he was seeing someone else, but because he was actually happy.

Hermione shivered, as if chilled to the bone,

Tears of anger and anguish were streaming down Harry's cheeks when he screamed, "Enough! I'm staying with Draco tonight—so just leave me alone!" Pushing past Ron in his haste, Harry rummaged through his trunk, half-blinded by tears, and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and Marauders Map. Then he ran out of the room before anyone could call him back.

"Harry!" Hermione called after him sadly, but the door had already slammed shut.

To say that Draco was enraged and saddened to see Harry standing outside the common room with a face full of tears was a massive understatement. As soon as the third year that had summoned him turned away to give them privacy, Draco snatched Harry up into a tight hug, swaying from side to side the way Harry liked, and whispered that it would all be okay. He had a feeling that his boyfriend's pain was induced by his so-called friends. Already Draco's scheming mind had started planning ways to get back at them for this.

"Draco," Pansy called, sitting in an armchair by the fire, watching Harry and Draco calmly. "Are you going to invite him in or are you going to stand there all day?"

Clearing his throat, Draco turned and wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders, leading him inside the common room. "Of course I am, Pansy, what do you take me for?" he asked, feigning hurt. "It is incredibly rude not to invite someone in. Especially when they've got nowhere to go."

"Then why did it look like you two were going to stand out there all day?" Blaise demanded, arching an eyebrow challengingly.

"You must need your eyes checked, Blaise," Draco said airily, waving the comment away. "Because that was not what I was doing."

Blaise only smirked.

Draco turned to Harry. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

He had a feeling he already knew, but it wasn't his curiosity that got him to ask; he sensed that Harry needed to talk about it, even if he didn't want to. An upset Harry was enough to bring down an entire room.

Harry's eyes travelled over the room slowly, then he met Draco's eyes with a significant look. He didn't want to speak about it in front of witnesses. While he trusted Draco and his friends, he didn't trust the rest of the Slytherins; they were known to pass on gossip when there was something in it for them. Gossip about Harry Potter would spread like wildfire. Pansy took the hint, and started banishing the Slytherins from the chairs, shooing them off to bed. No one disobeyed Pansy Parkinson, and they all took off.

"A Muffliato spell should do the trick," Harry muttered, pulling out his wand as Blaise and Pansy got comfortable in their seats. He cast the spell and set the wand down on his lap. Then, taking a breath, he started to recount what happened.

"Some friends," Pansy scoffed when Harry finished. She inspected her nails with a nonchalant air about her. "If they really cared about you, they'd support you in whatever relationship you want, no matter how much they disapprove. If Draco were to go out with a Hufflepuff—" She pretended not to notice Draco's disgusted shiver "—then I suppose we'd have to accept his stupidity until he came back to his senses. And that Weaslette needs a swift kick in the face. She thinks she owns you. That is so not cool."

Pansy looked as if she'd be happy to deliver a swift kick to Ginny's face.

Harry leaned a little into Draco, who could sense that his mate was starting to relax a little. "Yeah. It's kind of weird, though. My friends can't accept who I am, but Draco's friends can. I wonder if I should have let the Sorting Hat put me into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor."

The only warning they had was Pansy's widening eyes before she started spluttering in shock. Rolling his eyes, Blaise pounded her on the back.

"You were nearly Sorted into Slytherin?" she gasped once she regained her composure. "Why didn't you just let the stupid hat put you in here?"

"Because of … Well," he muttered, and glanced at Draco. "Because of Draco. He was an arrogant arse when I met him—not much has changed." He laughed as Draco light-heartedly slapped him across the back of the head. "And then Ron told me that there wasn't a witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin. So when the Sorting Hat told me that I'd do well in this House … I asked it not to."

"And the damn thing listened to you?" Blaise asked, incredulous.

"Weasley told you we were all evil?" Pansy demanded angrily.

Harry nodded. "Yes and yes. After meeting Draco, I kind of agreed with Ron that all Slytherins are bad. Now I just wish I _hadn't_listened to him." He probably would have ended up friends with Draco, Pansy and Blaise and the seven years of Hogwarts probably wouldn't have been as bad as what they were. Not that Hermione was a bad friend. Or Ron, when he pulled his head out of his arse and realised that things didn't always work out the way that he wanted them to.

But would he have wanted to give up his Gryffindor friends to be here? Yes, yes he would.

"Well," said Pansy, stifling a yawn behind her hand. She stood up. "This has been fun, truly, but I am in desperate need of sleep. I'll see you all in the morning. Good night."

"Yeah, I'm going to catch up on some sleep, too," Blaise said. He waved, but didn't bid them goodnight.

Draco turned to Harry. "We should go, too. Come on. We've got Potions first thing."

Harry's answering groan echoed around the common room.

. . . .

Ron and Ginny were particularly sour that morning, glaring at Harry, who sat at the Slytherin table in between Draco and Blaise. They seemed to think that his being over there was an insult, as though they hadn't played their part in chasing him out of Gryffindor.

"I really wish they'd stop glaring at me," said Harry, nodding his head to Ron and Ginny. "I don't like being watched when I'm eating."

"Now you know how I felt whenever you stared at me," said Draco, amused, buttering a piece of toast. "And you wondered why I always left the Great Hall early."

Harry elbowed him in the ribs. "Draco, I'm serious."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" Draco asked with an impatient roll of his eyes. "I can't go over there and tell them to stop staring at you. Just ignore them. If you don't pay them any attention, you can only hope that they'll take the hint and leave you alone."

"And if they don't?"

"Then I have to say that you have very poor taste in friends," Draco replied, glancing up. "At least Granger has the manners not to stare. She doesn't even look remotely bothered by you sitting here. I think she's more concerned with keeping the gingers in their seats. It's astounding how many people think they can lay claim to you."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Did you just compliment Hermione?"

Standing up, Draco shot Harry a disgruntled look. "Perhaps I ought to take you to Madam Pomfrey on the way to Potions? Just to check if your brains have been addled at all. Now, come on. I'd like to get to Potions early."

"Yeah, only you would want to get to Potions," Harry replied, tossing his bag over his back, standing up, too. Draco had the highest Potions score in their year, at least five over Hermione, a fact that peeved her greatly. Harry knew that Draco had raw talent that couldn't be attained by just reading books. "I don't know what the appeal of being taught by Slughorn is. He lets us brew anything we want, as long as it is legal."

Draco stared at him, waiting for him to get it.

"You'd better not be brewing anything that'll help me win the Tournament," Harry warned, grabbing Draco by the shoulder, spinning him around. "I'm not going to cheat. If I could handle it in my fourth year, I can handle it now."

"No, you idiot, I'm going to brew something that'll help me help you," said Draco, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, as if I didn't know you wouldn't cheat."

Harry glared at him suspiciously. "What are you planning?"

"If I can get inside your head," said Draco. He held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth to protest. "Just hear me out, okay? If I can get inside your head, I can help you get through the tasks without injury. Harry, you know that I'm meant to protect you from harm, and you'll be disqualified if I physically get involved. But, if I'm in your head, there's no need for me to get physically involved."

"Won't McGonagall know you're up to something if you don't even react when I get so much as a cut?" Harry demanded. "I mean, she does know that you're a Veela."

Stepping around Harry, Draco headed straight for the door that led down to the dungeons.

"I know a Potion that'll allow my … my mind to latch onto yours," he said, one hand trailing along the wall as he descended the narrow steps. "I'll still be able to control my body. All I will need is some of your hair when I've completed the Potion, and then that's that."

"What if I don't want to give you some of my hair?" Harry asked stubbornly.

Draco stopped. "You've got to go to sleep sometime, Harry. There's no stopping me from doing this, you know. I'm not going to sit back and watch you get killed."

Slughorn mopped at his sweaty face with a handkerchief as he entered the classroom and found his class already sitting at their desks with their Potions ingredients out. It was a force of habit after so many years of being taught by Snape. Slughorn greeted the class cheerily.

"All right, everyone!" Slughorn called, clapping his hands."Remember what I told you last lesson? I bet you do! It's time to surprise me with your fantastic Potion making skills!"

The fact that the class exchanged looks with each other right in front of him didn't deter Slughorn's mood. He motioned for them to start concocting their Potions, then went to sit behind his desk to watch them, his smile fixed. Draco immediately started setting out his ingredients, opening his book and Harry saw that he'd already marked the page he needed. It was as if had come up with the idea of the mind-reading Potion the night before, when they'd been asleep, for Harry didn't remember Draco getting up at all last night.

"What am I supposed to make?" Harry hissed at him. "Do you reckon he'd get angry if we worked on the same Potion?"

"Slughorn, angry at you?" Draco smirked, slicing his roots finely with a steady hand. His eyes kept darting back to his book. "What world are you living in? Slughorn adores you. Anyway, just make something like a … burn-healing Potion, okay? Just in case."

"Are you sure you don't need my help?"

"If I needed your help, I would ask for it. Just make the burn-healing Potion,. I have a feeling we're going to need it. And try not to mess it up."

Harry sighed, grabbing his own book and rifling through it until he came to the right potion. He made sure to check the directions at least twice before attempting to do anything with the ingredients.

Under his breath, Draco kept muttering. His hands were quite literally flying everywhere, seemingly doing two things at once. Harry turned to Draco and said, "Draco, I know you're working hard and the Potion can't be easy, but do you think you could shut up for a bit? I'm finding my Potion a little bit difficult, and you're not making it any better."

Draco glared at him for a moment out of the corner of his eye, and then returned to his Potion, thankfully quiet this time.

In a matter of half an hour, the classroom was filled with smoke. Harry was rather surprised at how well his was coming along. With his double-checking he ensured that he got it right.

"All right, time is … up!" Slughorn called, standing up. "Step back from your cauldrons and let me take a look."

Slughorn proceeded to walk around the room checking the potions. Most of the attempts were abysmal. He took out his wand and started vanishing the contents immediately after he'd checked them, out of fear that the fumes most of them chugged out would be toxic to the lungs.

Draco stood proudly, his hands clasped behind his back.

"If the bell will just hold back for another five minutes, the potion will be ready to sample," he told Harry from the corner of his mouth. "It was supposed to be left standing for three days, but Snape taught me a few tricks to speed up the process. Hopefully they've worked."

"Hopefully?" Harry asked warily.

"Well, I'll be testing one phial out tonight with your hair. If I get poisoned, I'm counting on your magnificent acting skills to come up with a decent lie."

Hearing the slight sarcastic edge to Draco's tone, Harry glared at him witheringly, but let the matter drop. He had been to the hospital wing so many times with incredible injuries—lying to Madam Pomfrey wasn't exactly unknown territory for him.

"Now, now, what have we got here?" Slughorn asked, reaching Harry and Draco's table. Behind him, Ron had turned around, trying to stare Harry down. Hermione slapped him lightly across the head, twirling her finger in front of his face. Ron turned back around.

"Malleus potion, sir," said Draco. "Over there Harry made a burn-healing Potion. I assure you these are done correctly, sir."

It seemed for a moment that Slughorn couldn't find anything to say. While he normally would have just praised Harry's efforts and moved on (nearly always avoiding Draco's potion like the plague) the Malleus potion was better than a burn-healing Potion, and with the two sitting right next to each other … he couldn't just ignore that.

"W-well done, Mr. Malfoy," said Slughorn, wincing. Draco's expression soured.

"Of course, sir. But you see, I think this qualifies as a Potions Master level, not to mention the fact that I've used my own little tricks to speed up the process. What normally would have taken three days now has taken one hour. But, as a Potions professor, I'm sure you know what those tricks are." Draco smirked when Slughorn ducked his head, blushing. "But if you just want to commend it with a well done, that's fine."

Harry wanted to slam his head into something solid. What was Draco playing at?

Looking thoroughly chastised, Slughorn moved away, mumbling under his breath.

"What the hell was that all about?" Harry demanded. "You're lucky he didn't send you to McGonagall for that!"

"If there's anything Slughorn doesn't like," said Draco, "it's confrontation. He's vanished every potion but ours, simply because I challenged him."

Harry looked around the classroom, surprised. Everyone else stood in front of empty cauldrons. He didn't know how he could have missed it. When he turned back to Draco, the git wore an "I told you so" look. Harry elbowed him in the ribs for it.

"Right," said Draco. "Hand me my vials, would you? Time to sample this—and make sure you label them. Burn healing Potion is incredibly bad for the skin when it doesn't have anything to heal."

"Why do I have to label them?"

"Because I slaved in front of my cauldron making a potion ten times harder than yours!"

Grumbling under his breath, Harry grabbed for his quill and ink and scribbled the names of the potions on the phial labels. Handing the phials to Draco one at a time, he sneered when Draco scoffed at his poor penmanship.

"If you don't like the way that I write, you could have written it out yourself."

Draco rolled his eyes. He poured the potions into the phials under their correct labels. "Don't talk like that. I'll be counting on you to check if I've used the right one. Trust me, if I end up in the infirmary because you can't write better, then I am seriously going to kick your arse—Veela or not,. I'll find a way to do it."

Harry didn't doubt it for a second.

The bell rang and Draco put the phials in his bag, ensuring their safety with an unbreakable charm. Then he vanished the contents of the cauldrons with one lazy flick of his wand, and began to pack away his cauldron.

"Come on," he said, taking Harry's hand in his own, once their belongings were packed away, leading him toward the door. "I want to drop these off before our next class."

They were outside the classroom now, when Harry wrapped his arms around the back of Draco's neck and pulled him closer. He and Draco pointedly ignored anyone who'd stopped to watch; no one existed in their own little world but them.

"You're going to win this Tournament, Harry," Draco whispered, dropping his head until his and Harry's noses touched. "I know it."

"Mm, with you there, how could I not?" Harry replied.

Grinning, they closed their eyes as their lips met. A chorus of gasps and whispers broke out in the corridor—not that Harry and Draco noticed much. No matter how many times Harry kissed Draco, experience would never take away the thrill that sent his heart racing, his blood pumping. He knew that Draco felt the same; he could feel Draco's heart beating beneath his hand when he lowered it to touch Draco's chest.

In fact, they were so wrapped up in each other, they probably would not have resurfaced from the kiss for a while if Ron Weasley's voice hadn't have crashed down on them like a bucket of icy cold water. "Oi! Do you think you can do that somewhere else?"

Draco pulled away from the kiss. "Jealousy does not become you, Weasley. Not with that hair."

Grinning maliciously at the sniggers his words had caused, Draco placed a firm kiss on Harry's cheek, and then led him away.


	2. The Yule Ball

Chapter 2

Before Harry knew what had hit him, the first task was just a day away. Where had the time gone? Why did the time fly by when all he wanted was for it to slow down and stop entirely? He curled up against Draco, watching the fire dancing in the fireplace of the common room. Draco and Pansy were talking to each other, something to do with homework, so Harry didn't bother to listen. He relaxed when Draco began stroking his hair idly.

The worst thing about the first task was that this time no one was here to shed light on what he faced. Hagrid had become a lot quieter since the end of the War, deciding to hang out more with Grawp in the forest than in his hut. Most of the time Harry went down to visit Hagrid, Hagrid was out in the forest. In the rare times Harry caught him in his hut, they'd rarely talked. It was as if Hagrid was getting sick and tired of living at Hogwarts. Harry couldn't blame him.

"Harry," Draco whispered, giving Harry a little shake. The embers of the fire had burned out now, leaving the common room in half-darkness. Pansy had long since gone to bed, though because Harry had been wrapped up in his own thoughts, he hadn't noticed her leave. "Harry, I think we should go to bed now. We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow. Come on."

Harry couldn't summon the strength to argue. He stood when Draco gently pulled on his arm. He was scared of falling asleep, because then time would fly by and he would be facing whatever monster awaited him that much sooner.

Once they slipped into Draco's bed, lying practically on top of each other because of the narrow width, Harry's eyes closed as he felt Draco's lips on his neck, nipping lightly at his skin. He knew instantly what Draco was doing;: trying to calm him down. Harry just had to remember that Draco would be inside his mind for the first task, and that he wouldn't be doing this alone. Draco would be right there with him, helping him out.

"Will everything be all right tomorrow?" Harry found himself asking.

Draco's hand slipped from Harry's arm down to his belly, rubbing it in smooth circles. "Harry, we have the Malleus Potion. I am going to be right there with you, so there's no need to worry. Two heads will work better than one, I assure you. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"I know, but I just can't help but wonder …" Harry shook his head. The more he thought about it, the more his chest constricted with barely contained fear. He smiled reluctantly, when Draco squeezed him. "What if something goes wrong?"

"Nothing is going to go wrong, Harry," Draco assured him. "As long as you trust your instincts and do as I tell you, everything will be okay."

Harry nodded his head, closing his eyes momentarily. He wanted so badly to believe this. He needed to. "Yeah, I know."

Draco kissed him on the temple. "Good night, Harry."

. . . .

Parting ways with Draco at the Champions tent had been sheer torture. Harry must have kissed him a thousand times, clutching his hands until Draco's fingers were about to break. Yet Draco had been incredibly patient, not even pretending to want to get rid of him. Finally, when they saw the silhouettes of the judges coming towards them, they were forced to part ways.

_Harry, can you hear me?_ asked a voice inside Harry's head all of a sudden. _It's Draco._

_Draco!_ Harry exclaimed, thankfully inside his head. _The potion worked?_

_You don't have to sound so surprised, Harry. Of course it did. How else am I communicating with you inside your mind?_

_Er, right_, said Harry, embarrassed. _Where are you?_

_I'm in the Quidditch stands along with everyone else. Let me tell you, the noise is deafening. If you weren't competing, I'd have gone back to the common room._

_Can you see anything?_

There was a few seconds of silence.

_I hear a lot of growling—even over this racket—and there are four cages near the Hufflepuff stands. I've heard that growl before, but I just can't figure out where._ Draco sounded a little worried, and with good reason, too. Harry paced the length of the tent. _I really don't like the look of this, Harry._

Harry closed his eyes, bringing his fists up to rub them. _Oh, don't say that, Draco! You'll make me lose my nerve!_

_Sorry._ Draco didn't sound particularly sorry at all.

The sounds of someone talking via the Sonorous charm met Harry's ears, but McGonagall's voice was too far away for him to make out anything she said.

_Draco_, he said, uncertain. _What is she saying?_

Draco didn't answer for a moment. Then rage coursed through the bond between them.

_How dare they?_ Draco screamed suddenly—, possibly out loud, for he was that angry. _How dare they put you up against something like that?_

_Draco_, said Harry desperately, _what is it?_

_White wolves. Incredibly dangerous. Now I definitely know I won't be able to stomach sitting here and watching you fight the fucking thing. Just—damn—FUCK!_

"We're going up against white wolves," said Harry to the other two champions. Both of them looked miffed that he knew, but they didn't comment on it, just nodding.

Harry started pacing again, rubbing his knuckles together. He could feel Draco in his mind, soothing him with his presence, but Draco was too preoccupied with being angry at the judges and watching what was going on than running a commentary.

_Hey_, said Harry suddenly, _if the bond is only meant to go one way, how can you hear me?_

_I'm reading your thoughts_, Draco replied, his voice a harsh growl. _You're not thinking your thoughts directly to me; I'm just picking up on them._

Harry refrained from nodding his head, out of fear that the other champions would suspect something. The flap of the tent peeled back and the judges trooped in. McGonagall called for them to line up around her. She held out a tiny black bag toward them. Ivan Dimitrov would go first, Amélie Bessette second, and Harry third. They had each pulled a white wolf, snarling and biting, out of the bag with little black numbers hanging around their necks. Harry didn't like the idea of going last in the first task than he did in his fourth year.

_I'm not coming on until last_, Harry told Draco.

_I know; I was listening._

_Promise me that you won't tell me what they were doing until after the task is over._

A spark of anger shot through the bond, but nonetheless Draco said, _I promise._

The worst thing about going on last was the waiting. With Draco's fear and alarm coursing through the bond, and the gasps and shrieks from the crowd outside, Harry found himself pacing again. Amélie smiled at him each time that he passed, shaking like a leaf. At least she got a chance to get this over and done with quicker. A loud howl interrupted Harry's thoughts, and he stood quite still, his head snapping to the mouth of the tent like he was expecting the wolf to come through.

There was a loud, tumultuous scream from the crowd. Harry knew that Ivan had finished. He turned to watch Amélie , who'd drawn herself up to her fullest height proudly, clutching her wand tightly in her shaking hand. Hearing the whistle, she nodded to Harry and walked out of the tent. A few moments later, the crowd cheered her arrival.

If anything, listening to Amélie fight the wolf was worse. Sometimes Harry couldn't distinguish between the screams. One thing was for certain;. Amélie 's wolf was enraged. It would yelp in pain, and then howl and growl in fury. Harry wondered if some of the screams were coming from Amélie herself.

_That's it, send her off_, said Draco. He sounded upset. _She never stood a chance. She got the prize, but the wolf got her back. Do not turn your back on it, Harry._

_What's the prize?_ Harry asked.

_You'll see when you come out. But incapacitate the wolf. Don't kill it._

The whistle blew just as Draco wished Harry good luck. Harry sucked in a deep breath, walking determinedly out of the tent. There was no time for fear now; he had to get in there, do what he had to do, and get the hell out of there. Before he could get onto the pitch, McGonagall took him aside for a moment.

"The prize you must collect," she said. "Is one of the cubs. A black one."

McGonagall sent him along. If this bloody wolf was female then Harry would be dead. Females were always protective of their young. Reaching the pitch, Harry winced at the screams the crowd gave him. In the middle of the pitch, a litter of cubs sat. There were six white ones and one black one. Draco nearly shrieked at him when he went to go and just pick it up, and Harry stopped.

_You idiot, don't go for them yet—what did I tell you about the wolf? Take the wolf out before you do anything! This is how the dragon almost got the jump on you fourth year!_ If Draco got any madder, Harry was afraid he'd throw the entire plan away and join Harry to fight the wolf.

But where was the wolf? Harry looked all around. The cage had been opened,; now it was empty. The wolf was nowhere to be seen. Harry turned in circles slowly, trying to find it. Everything was deathly silent, like everyone was afraid to move or breathe.

A guttural growl behind Harry caused him to tense up. His nerves were on fire, telling him there was something behind him. Clutching his wand tightly, he whipped around. The white wolf, spurred by the sudden movement, leapt at Harry, her jaws wide with razor sharp teeth. Going with his instincts, Harry dropped to the ground, feeling the white wolf jump over his head. He leapt to his feet the minute he heard paws hitting the ground.

"_Impedimenta_!" Harry shouted, but the wolf dodged it easily.

_Normal curses aren't going to work on this one, Harry,_ Draco said nervously. _That's what got Amélie dragged off the pitch._

The wolf charged at Harry. Harry, backtracking too fast, fell over his own feet and sprawled onto the ground. Horrified shrieks and yells sounded from the crowd, and they surged forward in their seats to get a better look. The wolf chomped down on Harry's arm.

One screech rang out louder than the rest. Draco was on his feet, his wings unfurling, preparing to protect Harry. Only the combined efforts of Pansy and Blaise forced him back down in his seat. Harry, fighting past the pain, kicked the wolf in the belly.

"_Reducto_!" Harry yelled, scrambling to his feet. It landed its mark, but his kick had no effect. What curses could Harry use? There was no way he was going to use Sectumsempra. That one almost got him expelled in sixth year. Wait, there was another curse he learned that year, wasn't there? "_Levicorpus_"

The wolf whimpered and yelped as it was jerked upside down, thrashing around and looking for release.

Harry conjured up a stone and bashed the wolf over the head with it to knock it out. It hung limply in the air, but Harry wasn't prepared to end the Levicorpus until he got the black cubs and got the hell out of there. He ran over to the litter. Most of the cubs scampered away from him as he approached, but the black one stayed. It looked up at Harry like a newborn would at its mother. It—then Harry saw it was female—purred as he cuddled it in his arms.

Instantly the wolf keepers were running onto the pitch, wands outstretched. The cage followed along behind them. With a flick of his wand, Harry ended the spell and allowed the keepers to get the wolf in the cage. Harry hoped that he hadn't hit the wolf too hard. He wanted to finish the task, not kill the poor thing.

"Harry!" Harry would never know how Draco got down so fast, but there he was, throwing himself into Harry's arms, shaking. "I couldn't tell you what to do, I'm sorry. I was having a hard enough time staying in my seat—but you were brilliant! You were the fastest person to complete the task, Harry! And with only a wound to your arm! Oh, we'd better get that fixed, too."

Harry laughed. "Calm down, Draco!"

"I can't calm down, that's the problem! I was so scared that something bad was going to happen when it bit you." Draco reached out, carefully, and touched the cubs on the head. The cubs preened under his tender touch. "It's cute, Harry. But it should be turned back into what it used to be."

"Draco, no! Please! Look how cute she is, how can you ever transfigure her back the way she used to be? Can we keep her?"

Draco bared his teeth in a pained sort of grimace. "I don't know, Harry. She's going to grow up to be pretty big. It takes a lot of hard work to care for a cub."

"I'll put the hard work in!"

Their conversation was broken by the arrival of McGonagall. She seemed to be fighting the urge to smile as she led Harry away to Madam Pomfrey to get his arm fixed, as Harry dragged Draco along by the hand.

. . . .

"The cub in your arms is a clue for the second task," said McGonagall later that afternoon. She surveyed Harry, with his bandaged arm, Ivan with a healing bruise on half his face, and Amélie who was still too weak to sit up. The only other person who was allowed in the room beside the other two judges was Draco. Being a Veela and mated to one of the champions had worked in his favour. "The task is during February, so you have plenty of time to work out the clues."

She'd given the champions a leash for their cubs to use for when they searched for the clues. They were to keep the pups with them at all times.

When they were finally allowed to leave, Draco turned to Harry and said, "Let's figure out that clue now."

"Now? Why not later? We've got until February!"

"Harry, that's too long away—we need to use the time now to figure it out and get you prepared," said Draco. "Besides, with the Yule Ball coming up, there isn't going to be too much time to solve this. Wouldn't you rather get it out of the way then leave it to the last minute?"

"Fine," said Harry, sighing. "Let's do it now."

He tossed the end of the leash to the cubs and watched as it immediately snapped into place around her neck. He'd name the pup when they were finished.

"Take us to the clue, cubs," Harry said in a ridiculously high, cooing voice.

Yipping, the cubs immediately started trying to run, being held back by the leash until it risked suffocation. Looking between each other, Harry and Draco immediately broke out into a run. In a matter of minutes they were running down to the lake, then along beside it toward a patch of trees. Harry had a bad feeling about being so near the lake. The cubs buried her nose into the bushes, and then pulled back, dancing and barking happily.

Laughing, Draco bent down to pat the cubs, which was admittedly growing on him, as Harry searched through the bushes.

"Draco," Harry said, stepping back. In his hand he clutched . . .

"An icicle?" Draco said curiously, standing up to take it from Harry's hand. "So it's obvious that you'll be doing something involving ice, but what?"

Across the length of the icicle, handwriting appeared: _I open with the password_

"Password?" Draco whispered, handing the ice back. "I wonder what the password could be. Try anything that revolves around ice, Harry. Don't rule out the lake, either."

Harry tried everything as he, Draco and the cubs walked back up to the castle. He'd even tried some words with a different accent to see if that worked. Nothing did.

"Try not to get too worked up about it," said Draco finally, once they were halfway down to the dungeons. "We've got time to work it out."

Harry pursed his lips and said nothing.

. . . .

Later that night, Harry was victorious. "Draco, Draco—I got the password. It's "'frostbite'" for some reason. Come and listen to the clue!"

Quickly setting down the book he'd been reading, Draco came running over to Harry, kneeling down on the floor in front of him and resting his arms on Harry's lap. He watched in fascination as Harry gave the password again, and the icicle stripped back in four pieces, like a peeled banana, to reveal a tiny golden light in the centre.

But instead of a riddle, like Harry had first been expecting, all it showed was four images.

First was an ice maze in the middle of nowhere. Next, a faceless individual trapped in ice, There was a woman, her skin red and raw, the tips of her fingers starting to turn black. Finally, the hands of an old clock appeared, quickly rounding the hour. Then, the four sides of the icicle snapped up and the image disappeared.

Draco was silent for a moment, and then, in a hoarse whisper, he said, "It's clear that something dear to you will be taken, and that you've got an hour to look for them. Honestly, that was the easiest clue I have ever seen."

"I'm sure they'll do something to make it a little more difficult," said Harry, biting his lip. "Like with the maze in the third task. There were monsters at every corner."

Draco nodded. "Well, we'll just have to research how to fight them."

. . . .

Ginny watched Harry eating breakfast with the Slytherins from across the Great Hall. He had the audacity to look happy, leaning into Draco and sharing jokes as if he belonged to them. She would make Harry see that he belonged to only to the Gryffindors—only her. She narrowed her eyes at Draco, who'd just opened his mouth to say something. She would personally extract her revenge on him for laying claim to Harry.

"Ginny?" Hermione asked. She'd been sitting at the table with a book propped open, but she hadn't even turned the first page. In fact, she sounded quite nervous, as though she had been working up the courage for something. "Ginny, are you okay?"

_No, I won't be okay until Draco Malfoy is dead,_ Ginny thought angrily. "Of course I'm fine, Hermione. Why do you ask?"

Hermione cleared her throat, her eyes darting from Ginny to the Slytherin table, and back again. "Well, you have been glaring over at the Slytherins for a while now, and you've been moody ever since Harry told you about his relationship. I think you should know that there are plenty of fish in the sea. Harry's just a fish who has found the bait that he likes, and it's not yours. Don't you think it is time that you got over him?"

"So you're okay with the fact that he's dating one of those slimy Slytherins?" Ginny asked incredulously. She didn't care that she was drawing attention to herself. How could Hermione be turning on her now after their long friendship?

Hermione looked uncomfortable. "Ginny, I never said I was okay with it. But Harry seems happy with Malfoy. And if Harry's happy, I'm happy. He's a big boy, Ginny, I know he can take care of himself." Leaning forward, she added, "He won't appreciate you trying to butt into his relationship with Malfoy. Malfoy is a Veela, and Harry is his mate. Just what do you think Draco will do to you if you try to come between them? Think about it. It just might save your life."  
>Ginny watched in shock as Hermione picked up her things and walked out of the Great Hall. Well that was just perfect. Now, she had to deal with the fact that Draco Malfoy had not only taken away her future husband, but her best friend, too. Wouldn't he ever be satisfied?<p>

. . . .

"I can't believe you organised a party, Draco!" Harry gasped. Several hours had passed since Hermione had confronted Ginny in the Great Hall, and darkness had fallen. "What are Slytherin parties like? I hope it's not a simple gathering to talk about the latest school news, family statuses and politics."

Draco shoved Harry in the back playfully. "Git. No, there's been a lot of orgies during Slytherin parties, but that's only when a group gets too smashed to care who they're fondling." He grinned broadly at Harry's surprised expression. "Half of us may have aristocratic parents, Harry, but we're still teenagers. We like a good party as much as the next."

"But why a party?" Harry asked. "Not that I don't appreciate the idea, but wow!"

Before Draco could answer, Pansy skipped forward, beaming. "We're inducting you as an honorary Slytherin!"

Draco shot her a half-pissed, half-amused look. He turned to Harry, gesturing to Pansy. "Well, that's basically what we're doing. Since half of Gryffindor is acting like you've betrayed them, we decided why not go the whole nine yards and just make you a honorary Slytherin? Though it isn't just to spite them; we did it for your pleasure, too."

Harry eyed him suspiciously for a moment. "Right."

"Come and get some food, Harry!" Pansy squealed, snatching Harry's arm and dragging him off towards a table in the corner that almost broke with the weight of the food.

She was rather lucky that Draco trusted her. The way that she'd snatched Harry and pulled him away, like she was hurting him, caused Draco's instincts to jump and his hackles to raise. If it had been anyone else—Blaise not included in that—Draco knew he would have pounced.

The party, in Harry's opinion, was much better than the ones that Gryffindor threw. Not that he hadn't liked them, but it had all been so loud with barely any room to move. No one understood the need for privacy there. But here, at a Slytherin party, everything was more subtle and sensual. The music that they danced to was erotic and catchy. No one tried to fondle Harry's bits, though (unlike some people had done in Gryffindor), because they knew that Draco would drown them in the lake.

But not everyone danced. Tiny groups sat in chairs around the fire, or up in the corners. One group played Poker with Exploding Snap cards. The end results had been disastrous for the group, who'd gotten their eyebrows singed off and the tips of their fingers burned, but hilarious for anyone who'd noticed what happened.

Harry ended up dancing in Draco's arms for most of the night. He wouldn't have had it any other way.

There wasn't an initiation ceremony or whatnot—nothing that anyone would have suspected from Slytherin—and no one even bothered to make a speech or anything. Everyone simply knew that Harry was to be treated and respected like a Slytherin. No one acted surprised when Harry told them that.

Later that night when Harry and Draco were tucked into bed, the sounds of the party echoing up to them still, Draco put two fingers beneath Harry's chin and turned Harry's head to face his. Their eyes met. Harry was overwhelmed by the sudden vulnerability in Draco's grey eyes, which made them appear impossibly wide and child-like.

"Harry, can I ask you something?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded, mute.

"Don't laugh at me," Draco warned. "But … will you … _will you have sex with me?_" He said it in a rush.

So this was what others had to go through when he couldn't formulate a coherent sentence, Harry observed. "What was that? You were talking too fast."

Cheeks dusted red with embarrassment, Draco tried again, taking a deep breath for good measure. "Will you have sex with me?"

Jerking like a puppet that had its strings pulled, Harry got up on one elbow and gazed down at Draco, shocked. "Where did _that_ come from?"

"I … I don't know," Draco admitted. He would later deny that he'd been shaking like a leaf. Malfoys did _not,_ shake. "I've been thinking about it for a while, Harry. I mean, we've been together for a while, haven't we? You've never thought about sex have you?"

Harry, a little ashamed, shook his head. "Not really. I've never really had the time to think about it, you know? There's always something going on to take my mind off my personal matters, that I've just become good at pushing things aside." He bit his lip, watching Draco nod his head twice, downcast. "But how about we leave it until the night of the third task, yeah? That way it can be even more special. I'm just … It doesn't feel right to have sex now, you know?"

Draco nodded his head again, seemingly more pleased with this explanation. "Yeah, I know."

Smiling, Harry leaned down and kissed Draco's cheek, then settled himself back down on the pillows.

"Good night," he said.

"Good night, Harry."

. . . .

After breakfast the next morning, Harry and Draco were stationed at the library, reading any book that had anything to do with ice. For a topic that should have had such a broad range, there wasn't many books to choose from. Draco even asked for some books from the Restricted Section, and only came back with one large book and one small enough to be a novella. He didn't look pleased.

"You'd think there'd be more books, wouldn't you? I hope there's something of use in here - otherwise this will be such a waste!" Draco grumbled, slamming the books down on the table, taking the seat opposite Harry.

Harry looked up at him. "Draco, calm down."

"I can't calm down! How can something that should have a broad range bring up such minimal results? Does Madam Pince update this freaking library _at all_?" Draco rifled through the first book he picked up with rough fingers, almost tearing the delicate paper in two. "If I have to find some library in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, I am going to be so pissed."

"Draco," said Harry in a soothing voice. He refrained from taking one of Draco's hands out of fear that Draco would rip it off in his agitation. "We've got until February. It's nearing December. We've got plenty of time."

Slamming his hands down on the book, Draco glared up at Harry, who'd reared back in his seat, eyes wide with surprise. "No, we don't, Harry! You'll need all the training you can get to make sure you don't fucking blow this up and get yourself killed—and _shut up_, I'm aware that this is a library!" he added to Madam Pince.

It was pure luck that Madam Pince was too shocked at being yelled at by a student to remember she had the power to kick them out of the library if she so wanted.

"Draco, is yelling at everyone absolutely necessary?" Harry asked calmly.

"Yes it is!"

"Why?"

"Because if I don't yell at someone, I am going to start throwing books around, Harry! I wish you could just drop out of the fucking Tournament. It brings more stress than it's worth." Draco had now calmed down a little, much to Harry's relief. Draco rested his chin on his hand, pouting. "Do they care that kids die in this thing? Apparently not, if they host the bloody thing every few years."

"Hey," said Harry, deeming it safe to reach across the table and grab Draco's hand in his tender grip. Draco looked up at him, eyes glassy. "I got lucky in fourth year, maybe I'll get lucky again. It should be easier without people trying to kill me at every corner."

Draco shook his head sadly, moistening his lips with his tongue. "Harry, I'm sorry, but you should know better than anyone that luck just doesn't last forever."

Feeling like he just got slapped in the face, Harry pulled his hand back and directed his gaze to his book.

"Harry," said Draco, almost breathlessly. "It's not that I don't have faith in your abilities - I do. But I'm scared for you, okay? Anything can happen in this tournament. You don't need Voldemort and his minions to be murdered, okay? There's plenty of creatures that can do that on their own, and they'll most likely be used in this tournament. That's why I want to prepare you. Sheer luck can only get you so far."

Harry looked up and their gazes met. They didn't speak, only watched each other. Ever so slowly, so that they weren't even aware that they were moving, they leaned in closer to each other. As if they ran on the same wave-length, their eyes feathered closed as their lips touched. It was a quick but tender kiss. Harry and Draco sat back in their seats, smiling coyly at each other.

"We should get some research done before we get so distracted, the library closes," said Draco eventually. "Otherwise I'll be tempted to kiss you right under the table."

Harry almost wished that he would, but he had a feeling that Madam Pince would ban them from the library for indecent behaviour. A shame. Sighing, he reluctantly picked up the nearest book, opened it, and scanned the index page for something useful.  
>They ended up staying in there until the library closed after all.<p>

. . . .

As November faded into December, everyone was starting to prepare for the Yule Ball. To say that everyone was excited for it would be an understatement of massive proportions, Harry thought, watching as swarms of girls stood in the corners of corridors and classrooms, watching every guy that passed, giggling and hoping that the "man of their dreams" would ask them to go to the Yule Ball. More than anything, though, the girls seemed to be watching him. Already Harry had to dispatch of twenty chocolates and cauldron cake boxes delivered to him from the girls.

Ten times Harry had to restrain Draco from attacking the girls that gave them to him.

"I'm not going to go with any of them," Harry promised as Draco wrapped an arm securely around Harry's waist possessively, daring a cluster of girls—who were staring at Harry with stars in their eyes—to get any closer to them. They never did. "I'm not even going to think of asking them."

Harry wasn't stupid, despite popular opinion; he knew that Draco wanted to go with him. Every day he saw the hope in Draco's eyes that Harry would ask him to go with him. But Harry rationalised that it wasn't the right time to ask.

"If you just get a date," Draco emphasised the word, hoping to put the message across, "then they'll leave you alone. What are you waiting for?"

"I don't know. The right time, I guess."

The expression on Draco's face went blank for a moment, and then he harrumphed and looked away from Harry petulantly, surveying the rest of the room. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, until you do, you can fend for yourself. I don't care anymore if you're felled by love potions."

Uh, oh. Harry had inadvertently hurt Draco's feelings. Did the git actually think that Harry would consider taking someone else over him? And why did he have to ask Draco in the first place? Couldn't Draco summon up the courage to do it his damn self?

"Draco, baby, don't be like that," Harry groaned. "Look, it's a Saturday, we've got the whole day to ourselves., You want to go for a walk down to the lake?"

Draco's fringe covered his eyes as he jerked his head up to stare at Harry, like he was 'd been surprised by the offer. He batted it aside impatiently with three fingers, and then decided to simply shake it away when it fell back down. "Uh … okay."

They pushed through the crowds of people that blocked their way—dodging the ghosts that had decided to drift through the corridors singing Christmas Carols to get everyone in the spirit of Christmas twenty-two days early—heading down a few corridors and out into the courtyard that would lead them down to the lake. Harry and Draco walked silently, holding hands. That had certainly attracted the irritated stares of a few of the girls who had been drooling over Harry since he became the War Hero.

Draco, despite being Harry's Veela mate, was scared of his position in Harry's life. Or, better put, he was scared of how long he would get to keep that position. That Harry not even asking him to the Yule Ball straight off the bat had further increased his worries. What was Harry waiting for? Draco would have asked Harry out himself if he hadn't been scared of his position in Harry's life. Harry needed to eradicate Draco's fears and allow Draco to believe that their relationship was as solid as cement.

But Harry wasn't doing or saying anything. Had Draco done something wrong or said something wrong that could curb their relationship?

"Draco, are you okay?" Harry asked, bringing Draco's hand up to kiss his knuckles. "You look a little worried."

Snapping out of his trance, Draco shook his head in bewilderment, and then grinned at Harry. "What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Mm." Harry did not look convinced.

Yet he said nothing, simply allowing Draco's half-assed excuse to roll right off him. That, if it was even possible, pissed Draco off more.

"Why won't you ask me?" Draco blurted out before he could stop himself. Harry shot him a blank look. "To the Yule Ball! I've been waiting for you to ask me since it was announced, and yet you're not saying anything! Are you that ashamed of me?"

"Draco, I'm not ashamed of you. If you wanted to go with me, why didn't you ask me?"

"I shouldn't have to ask!" Pulling his hand free of Harry's grip, Draco used it to snatch Harry's arm. He spun Harry around so they stood face to face. "Why do I need to ask? I mean, I don't even know if this relationship is going to work yet—I've been waiting for you to ask me, so I feel bloody secure about my place in your life! Before the war, you hardly ever glanced at me except for when I was being an ass. Now we're mated and are looking at a future together. I'm sorry, but that's how I feel! How can I be secure if I've gone from being no one but another petty enemy, to being your damned lover?"

Harry gaped at him like a fish out of water. "Why didn't you tell me that's how you feel?"

"I don't know … It's stupid, I guess …"

"If that's how you feel, then it's not stupid," said Harry fiercely. He captured Draco's shoulders and pulled him closer, tipping Draco's head up with two gentle fingers when Draco refused to look up and meet Harry's gaze on his own. "But, Draco, I shouldn't have to ask to you to the Yule Ball for you to know that there isn't anyone else I'd rather go with."

"You better bloody mean it," said Draco, chuckling softly. He still seemed a little upset, though. "Because if I hear that you've promised someone else that you'll go with them, I cannot be held accountable for murder, you understand?"

Laughing under his breath, Harry's hands trailed up Draco's neck to his cheeks, cupping them and bringing his head closer for a kiss on the forehead. "Silly goose."

. . . .

"Oh, Harry!" called Ginny Weasley. She ran down the corridor to Harry, once hand raised in the air, waving exaggeratedly. Stopping in his tracks, Harry eyed her warily. He'd only just left Draco with Professor Vector to discuss his latest assignment. Did everyone have to chase him down when Draco wasn't with him? "I thought I'd catch you somewhere around here! How are you doing?"

"Great," said Harry, grinning falsely. What did she want now? She'd made it perfectly clear that she disapproved of Draco. "You?"

"Excellent! Listen, Harry, have you got a date for the Yule Ball? Because, you know, neither do I. So if you're free, and I'm free, maybe we should go together?" Ginny asked hopefully, hopping up and down on her toes foolishly with excitement, beaming at Harry.

Ah, so that's what this was about, Harry thought. "I'm sorry, Ginny. But I'm already going to the Yule Ball with Draco." What else did she expect? Draco was his boyfriend, therefore he already held claim to Harry for the Yule Ball by default. "I thought you'd know that I'd be going with him."

Ginny barely reined in her rage that took her complexion from as red as her hair to a light purple colour. She looked quite demented. Harry wondered if it was wise to ask her if she needed to go see Madam Pomfrey. "I thought you'd have come to your senses by now, Harry. Ron and I know he's no good for you. I mean, look how many years you two have hated each other!" She spat the last sentence out proudly, as if no one else had figured out that little piece of history between Harry and Draco.

"Ginny, I love Draco. That's never going to change. You'll just have to ask someone else to the Ball, okay? We were never meant to be." Harry went to step by her, but she reached out and grabbed him by the arm with a pincer-like grip. "Let me go, Ginny."

Her face contorted until she looked almost inhuman with rage. "Yes, we were, Harry! You just don't see it yet, okay? Look, just dump Malfoy and go to the Ball with me—you'll see how much we're meant to be together! Just give me a chance, please."

"You had your chance in sixth year, Ginny. But I still broke up with you, and if we ever dated again—which we won't—I'd break up with you again. You're not the right person for me."

Not for the first time Harry wondered if the Weasleys were hiding some hidden ability to self-combust in fury. Ginny seemed to radiate an anger that would make anyone weaker and less capable than Harry run for the hills. It took all of Ginny's self-control not to chuck a tantrum right then and there.

"But why, Harry? What has Malfoy got that I don't?" she whined. The fact that Ginny could feel nothing but pure fury and still whine didn't faze Harry in the slightest.

"Me," said Harry. There, discussion over. Turning away from her, he walked down the corridor and left her to her screaming fit.

Harry decided to wait in Slytherin for Draco. At least there he wouldn't be ambushed by more people he didn't want to see.

It took Draco another twenty-five minutes to reach Harry. When he did, the first thing that came out of his mouth as he dropped down on the seat opposite Harry was, "What happened?"

Harry shot him a blank look. "What makes you think that anything happened?"

Draco was not convinced. "Besides the fact that Ginny was screaming the place down when I left Professor Vector's classroom? Not to mention I could sense how angry you were. I had to ask Vector to repeat things, because that's how much you were distracting me!"

Oh. "She was convinced that the two of us were destined to be, and I just set her straight on the matter." Draco's upper lip curled in disdain. "I know. She also wanted me to dump you as my date to the Yule Ball and take her. A few months of dating in sixth year, and she thinks she owns me."

"Ginny Weasley has never been the most adept at keeping her eyes off your ass, like it's a prize to win," Draco replied savagely. "If you ever consider one of her offers, I swear to God I will make you pay for it."

Harry scoffed at him. "After that, I'd be surprised if she ever did offer me anything again. I think I got the message through to her loud and clear."

"Yeah, well knowing her," said Draco darkly, "she'd overlook all the signs and messages just for the sake of having you."

Harry couldn't quite agree with that.

Old habits die hard.

Draco leaned over, and wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling him close. "You're mine, Harry. I'm not going to let you go anywhere."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Harry then pressed a sound kiss to Draco's lips.

. . . .

If anyone learned that it took Draco Malfoy three hours to get ready for the Yule Ball, they wouldn't be surprised. After all, this was Draco-bloody-Malfoy they were talking about, and he took a lot of pride in how he looked. Draco only hoped that Harry would take care in his appearance—if only for tonight.

Nerves ate away at Draco as he stared at himself in the mirror, checking himself over for any flaws. He wanted to be perfect for Harry; he hadn't spent three hours slaving over his looks for nothing. If Harry laughed at him, though, then Draco would call off the night and head back to the dormitories. He wasn't going to the Yule Ball to be laughed at by his boyfriend. Not that he would … possibly not, anyway.

It was a well-known fact that it had taken Harry Potter sixteen years to grow some tact and one and a half years to learn how to use it.

Finally deeming himself fit to leave, Draco turned away from the mirror and left the dormitory. He hadn't allowed Harry to come anywhere near him since he'd declared it was time for him to get ready (much to Harry's shock). Three hours apart and Draco was already going crazy, needing to see Harry again.

He trekked all the way to the Great Hall, straight-backed and proud—giving nothing away about his nerves.

Reaching the stairs finally, Draco could see Harry standing at the bottom with his back turned. Clearing his throat to get Harry's attention, Draco started to descend. Harry, hearing the noise, spun around.

Before Draco could reach the bottom of the stairs, Harry reached for his hand and kissed the back of it, a twinkle in his eyes.

"You look beautiful."

In those few moments, Draco felt it, too.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, line up over here please!" McGonagall called, beckoning them over to where she had Amélie and Ivan lined up with their dates. Ivan had a haughty looking girl with brunette hair, wearing a form-fitting black dress matching high-heels. Amélie had a sixth year Hufflepuff boy Draco didn't care the name of. "Now it is traditional for the Champions to open the Yule Ball with a dance. I trust that none of you will have any problems with that?"

Draco wanted to laugh when McGonagall's eyes travelled over Ivan's date with ill-disguised displeasure. He managed to hold back on that temptation.

She gave them a little lecture on conduct, and then allowed them to pass through the doors.

As they walked to centre stage, Draco spied Ginny standing next to Neville Longbottom, looking at Draco with hate in her eyes. _That was my spot_, her eyes seemed to say. It only made Draco that much prouder to be standing next to Harry. Ron, turning an ugly shade of purple, stood next to Hermione, who beamed and waved at Harry, and nodded curtly to Draco. Not that Draco had been expecting much else; at least Hermione was trying.

The Champions and dates had reached the inner circle. Harry faced Draco, immediately putting one hand to Draco's waist and taking hold of his free hand. After the travesty of a night at the Yule Ball in fourth year, Harry didn't want to make any mistakes and screw it up now.

Draco danced with Harry with a smile on his face. He doubted he could have been happier if he tried. Everything melted away except for himself and Harry; the onlookers just didn't exist to them. Draco knew then that it was the way it was always meant to be;: just him and Harry, and no one else.

If he'd been paying attention to the crowd, he would have noticed Ginny shaking with rage, plotting Draco's murder under her breath. She crushed poor Neville's hand. He gasped and yanked it from her grip, glaring at her as he massaged his knuckles. Ginny rolled her eyes at him, snatching his hand back and pulling him out onto the dance floor.

Somewhere in the dance, Harry and Draco had put their foreheads together, gazing at each other. During the lifts, Harry would never get over how light and easy Draco was to lift.

Finally, the opening dance ended. Looking around, Harry blinked at how many people had come out of the crowd to dance with their partners. He'd been paying so much attention to Draco that he'd hardly noticed anything else that went on around him.

"_Are you ready?_" a voice screeched into a magical microphone.

With those three words alone, the whole room imploded with shrieks and screams.

It only got worse when the Weird Sisters began to play.

"Let's dance!" Draco screamed at Harry over the noise, snatching Harry's hand and pulling him into the centre of the writhing crowd of people.

. . . .

Ginny watched Harry being led into the moshpit by Malfoy, and her rage threatened to boil over. She had half a mind to go in there, grab Harry and drag him back out. What the hell did he think he was doing? Harry belonged to her; Malfoy simply had no rights to him. She was so mad with Harry being easily seduced by Malfoy that she forgot she actually had a date to the Yule Ball, and that the Weird Sisters happened to be her favourite band.

"Ginny," said Neville shyly, beaming down at her hopefully. "Do you want to dance with me?"

"No," she hissed at him through clenched teeth. "If that's all you want, you can leave."

Neville stared down at her incredulously, before he snatched his hand back from her. "Fine. I'll go and find some other girl who appreciates me enough to dance with me." He took two steps away from her, and then turned back. "You do know Harry's never going to be with you, right? Not even if their relationship ends badly. You're working your way through a string that's not going to tie itself to anything. Harry's got a mind of his own, Ginny, and he's made it up. You're not for him, and you never will be."

With a satisfied smirk on his face, he turned his back on an incredulous and hurt Ginny.

_How dare he?_ Ginny thought, shaking. _He knows nothing of what I'm trying to do. If he did, he'd think twice about talking to me in that manner! Harry will be mine, once I break him out of that potion that Malfoy must have him under! If Harry is mine, it benefits us in the end._

Her eyes followed Neville, and how he managed to attract a girl like he'd just turned into a chick magnet.

_Let him go,_ she thought. _He was never worth your time_.

Ginny then spied Malfoy leading Harry out of the moshpit, laughing and kissing, and heading toward the drinks table.

. . . .

"I didn't know you could dance like that!" Harry gasped. "Were you trying to make me hard?"

Draco threw his head back and laughed. "Baby, I don't even have to try."

They reached the drinks table. Sharing one last kiss, they grabbed their own drink and, taking each other by the hand, looked for a spare seat to sit down in.

"And just so you know," Draco said, "if you're going to complain about getting hard in a moshpit, don't forget you had your hand on _me_. In questionable places, might I add."

They found a seat toward the back of the room, still sharing barbs, and now pushing each other in the hopes that one of them lost hold of their drinks. Neither of them did; as Seekers, they were required to hold onto tiny things in order to win the game.

"Let's not stay here long," said Draco, yawning. "We just danced to ten of their bloody songs in there. I'm tired."

Harry slumped in his seat, equally exhausted. "Finish the drink and head back?"

"Definitely."

"Oh, look what we have here," said a sly female voice. Harry and Draco looked up, frowning at Ginny who stood in front of them, posing in a weird fashion, her arms wrapped around under her breasts, pushing them up until they were in danger of popping out of her dress. "Finished with the manipulating, Malfoy? Are you ready to return Harry to where he belongs?"

Draco chuckled darkly, shaking his head and dumping it into his palm. "Weasley. Whenever something goes right, one of you ginger nuts has to come along and ruin it. Figures."

"Aha!" Ginny yelled, pointing a finger at Draco. "See, you just admitted that you had Harry under some kind of spell!"

"Ginny," Harry groaned. He happened to share Draco's sentiments at that moment. He was not ready to have his good night end in shambles. "What do you think you're doing? And stop trying to push your boobs out. You look like a whore."

It was worth the slap to the face if it managed to make Draco roar with laughter.

"How dare you, Harry? I am your best friend; I am not a whore," Ginny shrieked. Harry bestowed his blessings on the insanely loud music; this was not an argument he wanted everyone to overhear. "You need to break whatever curse Malfoy has put on you, or something. You don't belong with him!"

"Ginny, I am not cursed, drugged or manipulated. I am, in every sense of the word, me." Harry placed his drink down and stood up. Draco followed him. He was willing to bet money on the fact that Harry didn't want to stay here any longer. "And you need to stop talking to me as if you own me; I'm not a possession, Ginny."

Grabbing Draco's hand, Harry stomped towards the doors to the Great Hall.

"Someday soon you're going to have to come out from under his spell, Harry!" Ginny called after him.

"Just ignore her," said Draco soothingly, once they were out in the entrance hall. "She has no clue of what she's talking about."

"Why does everyone think that I'm being forced to love you?" Harry asked, his voice a moan. He threw himself into Draco's open arms. "Why can't people just accept that I am in love with you, and therefore off the market?"

"You'll never be off the market; not as long as there are posters of you and vibrators."

Harry choked back a giggle. "Come on, let's go to bed."

. . . .

"What did I tell you, Ginny?" Neville whispered, having watched the whole affair out of the corner of his eye. The little Beauxbatons girl hung onto his arm tightly. With any luck, Neville would get a chance to score tonight. "Harry was never meant to be yours."

He knew one thing, though: Ginny was up to something. 


	3. The Mystery Solved

Thank you so much for reading, guys! This is it!

Chapter 3

December ended, January flew past, and in came February, much to Harry and Draco's distress.

"You can't simply rely on heating charms!" Draco nearly shrieked, as the thirteenth loomed over their heads like a bad omen. He again ignored Madam Pince's warning about being silent in a library; there was just too much stress on him to care. "There might be a few creatures that are immune to that sort of thing, but I can't see how learning any other charm in here would work for you. I've looked them up. Ice and snow creatures don't usually fall for that sort of thing!"

"Then I'll use normal charms to try and keep them at bay—maybe I'll transfigure them into something harmless?"

Draco slumped against the table, his eyes gleaming with tears of fear and stress. "I don't know … maybe."

"Hey," said Harry softly. He walked around the small table and sat behind Draco, massaging his shoulders. With a moan, Draco leaned back into him. "Don't work yourself up about this. You've gone up and beyond for me already. Looks like I'll just have to take my chances with what we've got."

"Ahem." Someone coughed pointedly. Hermione stood over them, looking awkward. She smiled at Harry, but it faltered at Draco, who sat between her best friend's thighs. She felt her cheeks going red. "Malfoy, Headmistress McGonagall wants you."

The bottom of Harry's stomach seemed to drop away. Oh, not this again. He moved to allow Draco to stand.

"This is for the Tournament, isn't it?" he muttered. "Taking the loved one to a place only the Champions can find?"

Hermione nodded, though she had no real idea of what Draco was saying. "She wants to see you immediately."

Draco bent down and pressed a kiss to Harry's lips. "I'll see you after the second task."

He walked out of the library with Hermione in tow, leaving Harry to his own devices.

. . . .

One would think that knowing who they were meant to save would be a blessing, but not Harry. No, he needed more details than just that. After having to save Ron, and then Fleur's little sister Gabrielle, from the bottom of the Black Lake, he wasn't going to be happy with where they'd stuck Draco. Would Draco be able to sense if Harry was in danger while he was asleep? Was there even a spell powerful enough to knock out a Veela and force the Veela to ignore their mate's imminent danger?

Harry wished it had been either Hermione or one of Draco's friends that were taken. Not having Draco around felt like having a limb removed. And what did the judges think they were doing, taking a Veela from his mate? Did they even know of the possible consequences?

It was a well known fact that Veelas were particularly … possessive over their mates. With Veelas lives depending on the welfare of their mates, it was important for Veelas to keep them safe. Should anyone decide to harm the mate, it would be prudent to find the nearest funeral home; Veelas would transform, and tear them apart.

Anxiety started to kick in. Really, what was stopping him from storming to McGonagall and demanding that she choose someone else—anyone else—just so that he could have Draco back? _Pride_, answered a voice inside Harry's head, snickering. _It always comes back to the pride, doesn't it?_

_Shut up_, Harry told it half-heartedly, but knowing in his heart of hearts, that was the truth of the matter. His pride might not have been as big as Draco's, but it wasn't small, either. But why did it have to be Draco that they took? Hermione meant quite a lot to him, and so did Blaise and Pansy - in a weird way - so why not them?

_Because the challenge is to retrieve the person that you'll miss most,_ said the voice again, sounding a tad like Draco's, topped off with the impatience. _If Blaise, Pansy or Hermione were taken, you wouldn't nearly be as riled up as what you are now. Face it, Draco is the person you'll miss the most; that's why he's not there with you now._

Well, they definitely took Draco—taking half his bloody soul with him, Harry couldn't help but add. Yes, it was a tad bit childish to proclaim, but Harry was so pissed off he was beyond caring at that point. Harry would work his arse off to find Draco, without a reasonable doubt. Then he'd rip the hands off of anyone who tried to take Draco from his arms. No bullshit.

Pansy had offered her support in the best way she knew how, being overly sympathetic until it border-lined on irritating. She'd tried to help out as best as she could, and Harry appreciated her efforts, but he'd rather be left to his own devices if he wasn't allowed to have Draco by his side.

Lucky strolled into the room like she owned the place, (Harry decided to call the cubs lucky, because she was pretty lucky that Draco still allowed her to live with them in the first place) reminding Harry of Draco himself. Harry had to smile as he scooped up the cub, who yipped in protest, and cuddled her close to his chest. Just like what Draco would have done,. Lucky wriggled a little but decided to graciously bear the pressure of the hug.

"How am I going to do this one on my own?" Harry whispered, pressing his forehead to the fur of Lucky's back. "Draco was right there with me the first time, but now he's trapped in some ice, and I have to find a way to fight ice and snow creatures to get him out. Do you think I can do it?"

Lucky yipped again, her whole body jerking with the strength of it.

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Lucky."

_Don't worry, Draco. I won't let your hard work fail now._

. . . .

The second task was upon Harry at last. As he made his way to Headmistress McGonagall, who stood with the other three Champions near the side of the Black Lake, the first thing he noticed was that the whole lake had been frozen. On top of the lake stood a few ice pillars and miniature glaciers that acted as barriers, and the mazes walls. Snow dusted the ice. If anything, getting through this task unharmed would be one hell of a major task.

The stands had been placed right over the lake, hovering in mid-air with thousands of people perched precariously there. From a birds eye view, they would get to see everything that happened in the maze.

"Welcome to the second task, Champions!" McGonagall called to them, in a cheery voice. Harry was surprised that she could even do cheery, especially not with those frown lines forever embedded in her forehead. "Something has been taken from you and put inside the maze of ice you see before you. Your challenge is to find them. But be very careful." Here is where she dropped the act and returned to her usual hawkish manner. "There are things inside this maze … things that will make your task even more challenging."

She stepped back. Placing the tip of her wand to her throat, she cast a Sonorous Charm. She talked about conduct and what would be happening for a full two minutes.

"As Mr. Potter of Hogwarts had the lowest score in the first task, he shall be going in first. Followed by Ivan Dimitrov. Then Amélie Bessette. A silencing charm will be placed on the stands so that nobody of any school can direct the champions toward their goal."

She turned to Harry. "You may enter now."

. . . .

Harry knew he was going to have an aversion to mazes after today. He ran through the maze, trying desperately not to trip on the treacherous snow and ice beneath his feet, hoping to be going the right way and to put distance between himself and Ivan. He had no idea when Ivan or Amélie would enter the maze, and that was the worst thing. He ran, heartbeat thudding in his chest, right into his first ice monster.

He had to admit that his first impression was Big Foot. The monster was tall and had white fuzz all over him, and a rather stupid face. Harry didn't hesitate casting an Incendio on it. To his surprise, it didn't work the first time. He persisted three more times in casting the spell; only then did it give up and crumple to the ground. Unconscious or dead, Harry didn't care enough to stay and check.

He had to double back at a dead end. Cursing himself, he retraced his steps and took the right turn where he'd taken the left. Giving up, he cast the Point Me spell, and found he was two hundred metres from Draco and heading in the wrong direction. The tip of his wand pointed in a north-west direction, and Harry hastened to find the right path to follow it.

He wished that Draco was in his head right now, leading him. It would have been so much better if Harry could at least just hear his voice.

_Snap out of it,_ a voice roared in Harry head. Not Draco's, but his own. _The whole point of this Task is to go in there and get him back, you fool! If you want to hear his voice so badly, then stop whining about things you can't help, and go in there and get him back!_

"Point Me," he said down at his wand.

_I'm right on course_, he thought happily.

_Chit-chit … chit-chit …. chit-chit … chit-chit …_

Harry stopped in his tracks at the clicking sound. His eyes shot open to their fullest extent at the prospect of being attacked by something else. It reminded him of the clicking of arachnids pincers. He closed his eyes momentarily and hoped with every fibre of his being that he wasn't about to get attacked by a spider.

_Chit-chit … chit-chit … chit-chit …_

He spun around, his wand outstretched. But where was the damn thing? Every pathway that led to him was empty.

_Chit-chit … chit-chit … CHIT-CHIT ..._

_BANG!_

Harry screeched and threw himself out of the way as a wall of ice suddenly blasted apart, large boulder-sized pieces almost squashing him. Heart in his throat, he pointed his wand at the attacker. A giant ice spider loomed down on him, pincers clicking hungrily. It stood still for a second, simply looming over Harry, casting him in a shadow. It gave Harry time to think about whether to melt the bugger or transfigure it. Unfortunately, it was not time enough.

With a screech, it leapt forward. Harry barely threw himself out of the way in time.

_Harry!_ Draco's voice screamed in his head.

As Harry fought the ice spider, he knew that his being in danger would help awaken Draco's Veela side. Would that count as a disqualification?

He dodged the spider as it came at him again, feeling the crushing pincers just over his head as he moved. He was not so lucky as to avoid harm all together; one of the spider's long legs had kicked out as it ran, and connected with Harry head on, sending him into an ice pillar. Blinking owlishly, dazed, Harry raised his head to see the spider turning toward him. If Harry wasn't scared to look into its eyes, he knew he would see fear there.

"_Incendio_!" Harry roared. But the spider merely stumbled, a tiny section of its body melting away. Harry gasped, gazing at it in despair. Incendio wasn't strong enough to deal with it at once. "I could really use some help now!"

_Break the walls,_ Draco's voice filtered into Harry's head. How he was doing that remained a mystery. _Bury it alive._

If this had been a different, non-life-threatening encounter, Harry would have questioned that command. But now it was either him or the Spider, and he knew which life he'd rather save. Pointing his wand at the ice walls and shouted, "Reducto!" He ran immediately as it hit; the three ice walls collapsed in a Domino Effect; one chunk of ice bigger than Harry's torso landed right where he'd been just seconds after he moved.

He ran, flinching when he heard the Spider's piercing wails of pain.

"P-point me!" Harry gasped, stopping only when he decided that he was a safe distance away from where he met the spider.

He had strayed a little from the path. That was easily fixed by taking a left, running down another path, taking another left and going an immediate right.

_There he was._

Draco was encased in thick ice, looking like a sleeping angel. No one else had arrived, if the two females in two separate ice 'chambers' was anything to go by. Harry knew better this time than to believe that they were in any real danger, and he ran right for Draco. The ice around the icicle chambers rose up to form a solid wall, keeping Harry from Draco.

"Reducto! Incendio! Come on you son of a bitch, move!" Harry attempted to climb over the wall, but the ice was too slick to get a firm grip on it. "Reducto! REDUCTO!"

_Remember the spells we practised, Harry!_ Draco's voice called to him. _Remember the spells!_

"_Estus Sursum_!" Harry said hopefully, pointing his wand at the wall. "_Estus Sursum_!"

The ice turned red and instantly melted back into water. Before the wall even finished melting, Harry ran through the wall to Draco, slipping on a particularly slick piece of ice and slamming against Draco's entrapment.

"_Estus Sursum_!" Harry cried, pointing his wand at the icicle.

It took all of fourteen seconds for the ice to melt. With a choking gasp, Draco fell forward into Harry's waiting arms.

Everything went black.

. . . .

"Mr. Potter, you were well outside the time limit," said McGonagall, standing in between the other two judges. "And because of that we're giving you 40 points—half of what you would have gotten if you'd gotten here on time."

Harry didn't particularly care at that point; Draco was in his arms, cold but safe, and that was what mattered most. "That's fine, Headmistress."

He didn't wait around to hear the other two Champions' scores. Draco shivered against him, needing instant warmth, and couldn't wait any longer. They headed for the castle, with the Slytherin dormitories in mind. Once they got there, Draco kissed Harry on the lips and headed for the showers, leaving the door open, so that he could hear Harry.

"I heard your voice in my head, you know. You didn't take that Potion before you went to McGonagall, did you?" Harry asked.

Draco blinked. "McGonagall had me under a heavy sleep Potion and a spell so I wouldn't wake up and help you." He smiled. "I remember having weird dreams with rainbows in them, like I was under Dreamless Sleep or something. I have no idea what happened in that maze, Harry. No idea at all."

"But how did I hear you, then?"

"Maybe it was your subconscious telling you what to do?" Draco suggested, arching his head back underneath the hot spray that left his skin burning. "Either way, I definitely wasn't there to help."

Harry bowed his head, pensive, and said nothing.

. . . .

Ginny was getting desperate. Three months had passed since the second task, and the third task was mere weeks away. If she wanted to make Harry hers, she was running out of time for it. But it seemed as though fate was playing with her, forcing her to avoid the issue in full.

Her life depended on making Harry hers.

. . . .

Three weeks passed, and the third task was upon them. Draco had Harry up late at night, studying and performing spells he thought would be important for the Task. When they weren't practising spells, Draco had his nose in a book to find more.

"You need to relax," Harry murmured on the night of.

"You need to shut up," Draco snapped back. "This is it, this is the third task. The person who put your name in the Goblet will choose tomorrow to attack you, I just know it. I want you prepared. They're not going to let me go with you to wherever you're going."

Harry put his lips against the shell of Draco's ear. "It's the night of the third task. Do you remember what you asked for at my initiation party?"

It took a few moments, then Draco's eyes went wide and he stared incredulously at Harry. "You're sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything, Draco. I'm ready to have you in full."

When Harry took the book and tossed it aside, taking Draco by the hands to lead him to the dormitories, there would be no going back for either of them. That was okay; Harry and Draco had quite forgotten how to turn around at this point.

Reaching the dorms, Harry had his shirt over his head and Draco's belt was unbuckled. Anyone who'd come out before they got in obediently looked the other way and pretended that they hadn't seen anything.

Afterwards, they fell asleep in each other's arms, waking up to a brand new day with no regrets.

. . . .

Draco refused to go to any classes that day, choosing to stay with Harry the whole time. He had gotten permission from Headmistress McGonagall to do so. They'd walked three times around the grounds, or so it felt like, hand in hand. When the families came in to see the champions, Harry and Draco went in to check if anyone was there for him. No one was.

"That's okay," said Harry, shrugging. "I can't expect the Weasleys to drop everything."

"You can't expect much from them," Draco muttered under his breath. He graciously took the elbow to the ribs.

"Mr. Potter!" said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky voice, running up to Harry and Draco. "It is time to get down to the Quidditch grounds for the third task."

He scampered toward the other Champions to tell them. Harry and Draco looked at each other. Without a word, Draco reached up and plucked a hair out of Harry's head, pulling a vial of the Malleus Potion out.

"I'm not taking any chances," said Draco softly. He put the hair in the Potion, and then downed it. "Go on. I'll be watching."

Harry pressed a kiss to Draco's face, then left. He didn't see the tear that trailed down Draco's cheek.

. . . .

There was no maze this time. When he got to the Quidditch grounds, there was nothing there. Harry wondered for a moment if he'd gone to wrong place. He was just about to turn away when someone called out his name. Over near the Hufflepuff stands, McGonagall stood, waiting for him. He hurried over to her just as Amélie and Ivan arrived. When they stood together, McGonagall spoke.

"This is not a task that will endanger you … not in the physical sense. What you must face is your deepest, darkest fears." Her eyes strayed over to Harry and lingered there for a moment. Harry thought he saw uncertainty in her eyes. "If you are not able to master your fears, merely send up red sparks with your wand, and the illusions will be dropped."

_That's going to be a difficult one, Harry,_ Draco said worriedly. _Your fears aren't exactly normal fears._

_Thank you, Draco. I'd forgotten that,_ Harry replied sarcastically. _Are you in the stands?_

_Close to. I'm with Pansy and Blaise._

"I shall leave you to prepare yourselves."

. . . .

Harry didn't get an opportunity to see Ivan's fears, but from Draco's running commentary, he knew Ivan wasn't handling it well. It took him ten minutes to vanquish whatever it was that he feared. Then he'd run off and vomited. Amélie had fainted on the spot. She never got to finish.

For a moment when it was Harry's turn, nothing showed up. Then Draco appeared. He was spread-eagled, wings outstretched, and blood covered every inch of his body. Harry could barely even see a patch of white skin for the blood. Harry gasped, fear choking him. He shook his head, wand trembling in his hand. He knew this wasn't real, that Draco was up in the stands, but he couldn't shake off the nausea and the dread of seeing Draco—beautiful, sarcastic Draco—dead.

_Harry—get rid of it! That's not me!_ Draco shouted in Harry's mind. _I'm not dying any time soon, you hear? I'm right up in the stands. If you don't get rid of it, you'll lose!_

Harry raised his wand with effort, like it weighed more than it should, and whispered, "Riddikulus!"

Draco disappeared, turning into a jack-in-the-box. It evaporated, and turned into Voldemort—there were many screams at that—surrounded by a bunch of dead bodies.

_No, no I killed him!_ Harry swayed, dismayed, on the edge of passing out. _How could he have come back if I made sure he was dead? Draco, help me!_

_He's dead, Harry, that's not him._

_Yes it is, I can see him right there! Draco, I can see him!_

_That's your fears, Harry. Fears are not reality unless you let them become so._

A knife appeared in Harry's spare hand. On the blade were the words: _for your fears._

Harry's jaw dropped open as he looked up at Voldemort. He'd been through Death once, and now he'd have to go through it again? Biting his lip, he lunged forward, knife raised. He didn't allow himself to think as he plunged the knife into Voldemort's chest.

"You're not going to get the best of me," Harry said, seething, in the few moments where he and Voldemort were face to face. "You're dead, and you're never coming back, and you won't ever hurt me, Draco, or my friends again. I'm not scared of you."

Voldemort exploded. In his place hung the Triwizard Cup.

Over Harry's head, words in yellow smoke rose into the air; _Mastering Your Fears, Conquering Your Challenges—Triwizard Champion!_

Harry laughed out loud; he'd won.

. . . .

"You did brilliantly, Harry!" Draco shrieked, throwing himself into Harry's arms once they were within arms distance of each other. "I just can't believe that you had to face your fears in order to win! How brilliant is that?"

"Neither can I," said Harry, dazed.

Someone pushed into them. Harry stumbled and lost hold of Draco. It was only pure luck that they stayed on their feet.

Ginny stood there, wand outstretched, she looked enraged and demented, practically spitting with anger. Beside her was Dennis Creevey. He looked angry too, but nothing compared to Ginny. He, too, had his wand out.

"If I'd known that conquering fears would be the third task, I'd have killed you during the second," Dennis growled. Unimaginable hatred sparked in his eyes. This was not the happy-go-lucky Dennis Harry was accustomed to seeing. He looked evil. "But once again, you manage to get yourself out of everything!"

"Dennis, why?" Harry whispered. "Ginny, I can sort of understand … but _you_?"

"You killed Colin!" Dennis shrieked. "If you'd have been quicker in killing Voldemort, Colin would still be here!"

Harry shook his head. "There was nothing I could have done to prevent what happened. Dennis, I'm sorry. But I wasn't there to see Colin die. I wasn't the one who killed him!"

"Liar!" Dennis screamed. His face rapidly turned red from the exertion. "You knew there'd be casualties, and you still wouldn't hurry up with killing the bastard—now my brother is dead. You killed him!"

Draco put himself in front of Harry. "Leave him alone."

Dennis regarded him coldly.

Ginny shrieked with laughter. "What are you going to do to stop us?"

Dennis turned his gaze to her. "Us? There is no us … only _me_." Before anyone could stop him, Dennis turned his wand on her and muttered, "Avada Kedavra." He didn't look at all affected when Ginny's dead body hit the floor. He smiled at up Harry and Draco, both of whom were shocked. "She was incredibly annoying, you see."

He looked down at Ginny, her eyes reflecting the horror of her last moments, and kicked her dead body like one would a piece of trash in a gutter.

"You killed her!" Harry gasped. "You two were working together, why would you kill her?"

"I'm not going to wind up in Azkaban sharing a cell with her," said Dennis, rolling his eyes. "It's better to go for a triple murder. But the two of you … you made all this very hard. You avoided everything. Ginny was supposed to get to you, Harry. Get you alone, to herself, and then we would have killed you bloody … but with your pretty blond whore hanging off your arm, whispering pretty words in your ear, it was impossible … But now, I'll have you for myself without anyone helping you. Once and for all, your luck has run out!"

He turned his wand on Draco. In the split second before Dennis whispered the fatal words, Draco transformed. It was his duty to protect Harry and himself from harm, and that's what he was going to do. His hands turned to black claws, his face into a beak, his wings spread out of his back. He looked like a monster, and he wasn't concerned with acting like one. Dennis' eyes widened.

"You're never going to hurt anyone again," Draco promised. Then he leapt.

At least Ginny had the honour of dying quickly, Harry thought, turning away from the bloody, one-sided fight. He didn't want this to replay in his mind for the rest of his life; listening to it forever would be enough. Dennis died screaming. Dennis died with his insides turned to mush and half his liver stuffed down his throat. Draco stood up, covered in Dennis' blood, and turned back into a human. When he looked at Harry, he sighed.

"It's over."

Harry didn't care about the blood as he rushed into Draco's arms.

"It's over," he agreed.

Five days later, after explaining to Minister Shacklebolt what happened under the Veritaserum, they were free. They didn't forget about what happened to Dennis. Killing Dennis was a dark mercy, one that would lead them straight into a not-so-perfect life.

For the first time in a long time, they were happy.

They planned to stay that way. 


End file.
